There is a lot of spice in here, (nothing graphic, but oh well … ). So if you don't like that, just read the first part until the italics, and the last forty sentences, because they are of importance to the storyline.

But it is fun though. Writing it was fun, anyway.

This time, my beta wants to remain unknown, but I still think she has done a very good job. Thank you …

Chapter eight

The ice cubes swirled around in his crystal glass because he made them, his hand moved in circles as he watched the auburn liquid mix with the water of melting ice. He was in charge of this, he made it happen.

Why was he not taking charge now, why was he not running about and finding Della, solving crime along his way ? What was stopping him from being her Romeo? What had been stopping him?

For a whole week?

Brock's words? " She is somewhere safe. Don't try to find her, Mason. It's dangerous, for her and for yourself. And stay out of this investigation. If I need you, I'll tell you. "

In the past, the notion of Della Street being in danger had never really frightened him, it had merely made him furious and more determined to do whatever he had to do to … to…, to … hell, yes, protect her. Now, for the sake of his own safety, and hers, they had told him to stay away from the investigation, away from the chase on Frank Halloran, away from the action. They had basically told him to sit and wait. A notion that had never combined very well with his need to chase, to move, to solve.

'Frustrated' was the right word to describe this state of mind. Usually, when confronted with a state like this, he thought about a similar situation from the past, and how he or someone else had gotten out of it. To copy succesful strategies from the past into the present had certainly paid off, both figuratively and litterally speaking.

Though he was blaming it on the strange mix of utter annoyance, and the effects of the alcohol since the bottle in front of him was nearly empty, he wondered why this particular memory kept appearing and replaying in his tired mind. The swirling thought about this very succesful and creative event caused him shivers, both cold and pleasant.

It was the way they had dealt with their first fight, forty-two years ago.

He smirked as he rest his head against the back of his chair, and closed his eyes. The unconscious mind worked in mysterious ways. Since there was nothing else to do, and nothing he was allowed to do, he decided to drag the memory from so far back in time into the present, to look at it and enjoy in retrospect.

They had argued. That was basically all he remembered. He couldn't even deduce what it had been about. Yet, he knew he had slammed the door after the row, things worsening progressively after that because of their hectic schedules of work and their seperate social lives. Reality had not given them proper room to talk about it, whatever it had been. And now, five weeks later, on a late Friday afternoon, he found himself utterly annoyed and frustrated, a whole long weekend stretching out in front of him again without Della, without Della and without Della.

The Los Angeles heat of this summer didn't help.

He wasn't going to say he was sorry, because he wasn't.

But he was. But he didn't know what for.

He swore.

'I want to talk to you, Della' was a ridiculous and difficult sentence at this stage. Loss of words had caused him to be unable to connect with her again, emotionally, and physically.

Their lives and work were too interwoven for them to be apart for long, yet he had never felt a bigger distance, no matter how close she was, and she didn't seem to care.

He swore again, never hearing the door to his office open.

" Perry? "

He just looked up at her, his face showing no emotion at all. At least she still used his first name.

" Perry? " Too wrapped up in his own thoughts and dark emotions, he didn't hear the sob in her voice.

" Yes. " Gruffness was his middle name nowadays.

" Your five o'clock's here. "

" Right. " He nodded and looked the other way. She stepped back, turned and closed the door behind her.

Another client, at five o'clock on a Friday afternoon, of all times. But it wasn't as if he had anything better to do, was it?

He lit another cigarette, and immediately extinguished it again. She had told him how rude it was to welcome a client while he was smoking.

The door opened again as he took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a short moment and tried to ease down. A new client with a new story deserved his proper and undivided attention. Maybe this was going to be interesting.

Because he expected her to introduce the new client to him, he looked up as he noticed the awkward silence.

He stopped breathing.

She was sitting down in the chair in front of his desk.

" You're my five o'clock ? "

She just nodded.

Slightly amused, and very well hiding it, he sat straight up in his chair, and clasped his hands in front of him on his desk. " What can I do for you ? "

" I have made a mistake. "

He swallowed. The glooming pearls from which he still could not define the exact colour, looked straight in his eyes, something that had not happened like this for the last five weeks.

" I don't know what happened exactly, but I made a mistake and I don't know what to do. " She stroked her skirt.

" What makes you think I can help you with that? "

" I'm trying to get through to a man, who is not letting me in anymore, on any level. While we had something going on what I would call a relationship. And, you're male. So I thought you could maybe tell me what is going on in his mind … "

Smart girl.

Smiling a soft smile, he rubbed his face. She used one of his inducing strategies. If a direct approach to a person was to painful or could be too sensitive, he spoke as if it was not about the person itself. He'd refer to the situation in third person, to give a different perspective. In that way he created a comfortable distance for the client or witness to talk about what had happened in a less emotional manner.

He marvelled at her. A connection that had been gone for weeks, was immediately present again.

" Can you tell me what happened ? " he asked.

" You know, I can't even remember what it was about anymore. "

" You fought ? "

" No, no, " she said slowly, shaking her head, thoughtfully, " We just disagreed about something unimportant, but we never talked about it afterwards. Because we were busy, work was busy, I had a weekend with my friends, and after that he had a weekend with his friends, then another difficult case came up, so we didn't have time. And we didn't make time. And so we drifted apart. "

" How long has this been going on for? "

" Five weeks. "

" Five weeks ? " Five weeks, three hours and twenty-four minutes, Miss Street.

She nodded slowly. " I miss him. I miss our time together, our humour, our ways … but I just don't know how to tell him. And I see him every day, because we work together. "

Making sure he was actually breathing, he held his hand in front of his mouth, before picking up on her game again. " Maybe you should make an appointment with him in his office. "

She bit her lower lip. " Maybe. Do you think five o'clock on a Friday afternoon would be appropriate? "

" I think that would be very appropriate, but I'm sure his secretary can tell you. "

" Do you think he wants to talk to me? " Her voice so delicate, he had trouble to prevent his hands from pitching forward to grab hers.

" I'm quite sure he does … " This was hard, harder then he had thought. He stood up, and walked towards the window, to look outside and hide his nervousness from her along the way. " I think he'd tell you how much he misses you too, and how he would like to make up for lost time. "

He turned slightly, to look at her from aside, without her noticing. Her bare legs were crossed at her ankles. Her long slender fingers toyed with the lapels of her blouse, draping them together, in a way that there was no bare skin visible anymore. Then she shortly stroked the lapels, undoing all earlier actions to cover the skin at her cleavage.

He was aroused instantly.

He shook his head. He tried to hide it, tried to will away the thoughts that involved this lady and this desk in a certain way, but he couldn't help himself, his eyes were drawn to her lips, glued to the way she folded her hands in her lap, the way she looked at him from under her lashes. Did she notice?

" I'm glad you think he'll tell me he has missed me too. I just assumed he didn't love me anymore. "

" You just assumed … "

" Mmmm-mmm."

" What would he say if you told him you just assumed … ? "

She chuckled softly, her face showing the dazzling smile he had come to love so dearly. " Oh, he would probably say that assumptions are the mother of all ' …. ' , and then he would use a bad word indicating people who are stupid. Hardly something a lady would say. "

He nodded long and very slowly, stretching this moment. He closed the distance he had felt physically and emotionally, by sitting on the edge of his desk, leaning towards her. " Assumptions are the mother of all … ehm … Would 'idiots' be a proper noun to indicate the people you are referring to? "

" Mmmm … Yes, I suppose. But he would use another word, I'm sure. "

" I bet he would. " He smiled. " Ready to go back to first person? You and me? "

" Mmm-mmm. " She nodded, as she allowed him to take her hand.

" I've been wanting to talk to you, wondering how to start, how to apologize, but I couldn't, there was no way, no opportunity … "

" … no motive ? " She slipped her hand out of his.

" I just … " Loss of words, again.

" And so, you just sat down and did nothing about it? "

" Uhmmm. Yes. " He studied his hand thoroughly now. This was probably how it felt to be on the stand, being mercilessly confronted with stupidities.

" That is so not like you, Perry … "

" I know. " It was all he could say.

" So, where do we go from here? "

He decided to take the chance. " Dinner ? "

She smiled. " That would be nice. "

" I have to change clothes first. "

" Yes, you do. "

" Oh. That bad? "

" I couldn't help noticing you wore this outfit yesterday … "

And the day before, Della.

" And the day before. " She added softly.

####

They drove to her appartment, because it was the closest, and she had a change of clothes for him in her closet.

It was in her shower, that he felt the relief going throughout his body through the hot streams of water. There would be some necessary talking, but things could go back to normal. The argument had probably come from nothing, and now it went back to nothing. Engrossed by his own thoughts, he turned the water taps off, and tied a small towel around his waist, walking into her bedroom. As he dried his hair with another one of her pinkish towels, he delighted in noticing her presence, which made him turn and look up.

" Della … Sneaking up on me, are you? " He pretended to be offended.

" I'm sorry, I … " She smiled insecurely. " I guess I just wanted to see you. "

" You see me every day. " He stated matter of factly, his eyes burning into hers. Why are you here, my darling Della?

" That's not what I mean. " Glancing at him, unable to stare at anything but the towel at his waist, she blushed and it annoyed her.

This amused him immensely. " Then what do you mean ? "

" Well, I wanted to see you, like this. "

" Like what ? "

" Bare. " It was barely audible.

" I'm not really, am I? " His voice was impossibly deep.

" Not really what? "

" Bare … "

" No. " She whispered.

In a movement he would later recall as overly dramatic, he pulled at the towel around his waist, and let it fall to the floor. He concentrated on her reactions, gauged the way she inhaled, the heaving of her chest, the way her lips parted, the way she fluttered her lashes. Was she melting already?

Did she want him as much as he wanted her, now, not even two hours after her 'appointment'? Did being on 'speaking terms' again, also mean being on 'touching terms' again? Because if it did, they were never going to make it to dinner. Not today.

At just a few inches away from his spicy thoughts, her sparkling eyes feasted upon him. All of him so freely disposed now in her own bedroom. So handsome, so masculine, so muscular, so well-built, and yes, so very richly endowed.

So many memories. So many possibilities.

She closed her eyes momentarily, swallowing unladylike phantasies, willing away the urge to strip of her clothes in front of him. She reached out for him automatically, as he took one step towards her. Their position gave her the opportunity to place her delicate hands on his bare chest, the tickling body hair arousing her, to an unknown extend.

He still had his voice. " What if I wanted to see you, bare? "

She cleared her throat and swallowed again. " Well, if you would insist … But you'd have to help me undress, I'm afraid. "

" Help you undress? "

" I'm trembling too much. "

" Trembling from what? Are you nervous ? " He raised his brows, as he brushed her cheeks with the back of his hand.

Her shoulders moved up and down, as she chuckled and swallowed the lump in her throat. " Trembling from need. " It came out softer than she'd expected. The lump didn't go away.

" Need? " His hands dropped at her serious tone. " Define 'need' for me. "

" I need to feel that you love me. " The tears were about to surface. His nakedness did nothing to soothe her, yet made her want him so much, she could barely breathe. She wondered briefly how these two emotions, that were so very different, could be felt at the same time, mingled even, as they seemed connected somehow. " I need to know that you love me. " She choked.

" Della … "

" Perry ? "

" I do love you. I'm sorry. "

" I'm sorry too, but what are we sorry for exactly ? " She sniffed, tears running from her cheeks.

" Oh, for fighting over something stupid, and being to damn stubborn. For too long. "

She nodded. Life was simple. He took her face in his big hands, and kissed her lips softly, stroking her tears away. Her shoulders shook against him, as he pressed her fully clothed body firmly to him. " I'm sorry, Perry. "

" For what ? For crying ? " His chin on her head, her hands on the small of his back. The warmth coming of of his body reassured her he was real, he was here, they were fine.

" I just felt so unconnected, I've felt so cold, like ice. Even with these temperatures outside. "

" Ice isn't necessarily bad. " His nose crinkled, but she couldn't see it.

" Well, it was bad now. " She stood straight up and whiped some more stubborn tears from her cheeks.

" Come here. " He unbuttoned her blouse, slowly caressing the soft curvy area where his mouth loved to start a trail of kisses at times, but not now. He undressed her slowly, watching her dreamy gaze being glued to his hands.

" What are you doing? "

" I'm undressing you, my lady. "

" U-uh. But why? Don't you want to go out for dinner? "

" I intend to sleep now, with you in my arms, and I don't want you to to be fully dressed. And the Los Angeles heat is my collaborator … "

" Just sleep, hmmm ? "

He smiled at her. " I will probably always want you, Della, but I can wait … Let's just sleep now. These weeks have been exhausting. I must have been exhausting … " He mused, and tore the blankets of the bed. " Besides …" he stroked her cheeks " … we have all the time in the world … "

She shook her head, but allowed him to pull her down on the bed with him. As she molded her body against his, she sighed contentedly.

" Perry ? "

" Mmm ? "

" Please wake me up, before you leave? "

He pulled her back to look at her face, surprise written all over his features. " Before I leave? To go where ? "

" Well, I thought you maybe had plans for the weekend. " She shrugged, but welcomed his embrace again, as he wrapped his arms around her protectively and kissed her soft hair.

" Had plans, yes. I've changed them, because someone unexpectedly came to talk to me at five o'clock. So, I'm not going to wake you up, unless really necessary. "

But he did wake her up.

In the middle of the night.

Very gently.

While he did so, she sighed deeply, and moaned a sleepy sound. Her favourite sleeping position was on her back, one arm flung over her head, one on her belly, and he blessed her deeply for this position. Usually, it just gave him full opportunity to watch her beauty shamelessly. Now, in the mysterious and silent atmosphere of the dark of the night, the only dim light coming from a small lamp on the bedstand, he had full opportunity to ignite a fire on her warm skin and watch it.

He smiled at the contradiction, and wondered how she would react.

Consciousness slowly caught her as she felt something undefinable trail up to the top of her breast, teasing it just a little before moving slowly to the other breast, performing the same breathtaking stimulating action. Still in between sleep and wake, she tried to recognize what caused the pleasant thrill that went through her, urging her to wake up. What was it? It wasn't his hand, not his tongue, it was … She stopped breathing when she realized what it was, opened her eyes, and opened her mouth with an audible gasp.

" Oh. "

It was ice.

" Ice isn't necessarily bad … " That was what he had said, just a few hours ago.

Tantalizing slowly, he trailed her body with an ice cube. When it had melted completely, he took another one from the ice bucket from the small table next to her bed, and continued his exploration, gazing at his movements, taking in the reaction of her skin, her pores.

" Hi. " His head on his hand, propped up on one elbow, he continued to slide the ice in a torturing path until it had melted completely.

" Having a good time ? " She grinned at him in absolute awe.

" Yes. " He answered lazily, being very concentrated on his task. " I thought you could use some cooling down, since it is so hot in here and we are forced to sleep without blankets and sheets. "

" How very thoughtful of you. "

" I'm so thoughtful, baby … " Another ice cube had melted completely, and having completed his task momentarily, he bent his head down to kiss her lips, gently opened them with his tongue, while her arms wrapped around his neck automatically, pushing herself against him.

He gently let go of her to reach behind him. Without losing eye contact he took another piece of ice, to start another moist trail, from the top of her nose this time, down over her closed smiling lips, her chin, her throat, to the soft skin between her breasts down to her belly, around her belly button, and further down, as she exhaled audibly. He watched her beautiful flushing face as his hand still held the ice and moved downwards over her body.

The rhythm he established there held her unconscious for several eternal minutes, until she pushed his hand back, unable to breathe, unable to think. Her words came from far away and were whispered to his warm neck. " You could really do anything you want to me right now, do you know that? "

He moved on top of her, entangling his fingers in her hair. " I much more prefer it if you say, 'with me' … I wouldn't do anything 'to you' … " He sighed with her, marvelling at her beauty in the dim light, then cherishing her forehead to his bare chest. " I love you. "

Her hands plucked on his back in massaging movements, as she weakened against him, her cheeks becoming warmer against his tickling chest hair. " I love you too. "

Bending his neck, he kissed her again, gently, carefully. It took her a few seconds to find out what was different about this kiss. Slowly realizing what it was, she laughed out loud against his smiling lips, before opening her mouth for him to enter again. As always, his tongue and mouth were soft, but now a strange freshness accompanied his taste. He had ice in his mouth. Kissing him now was even more captivating, sensually delicious in a strange way, this mixture of moist, hot and cold, her mouth tickled and tingled, it felt like tasting warm ice, which had his scent, his flavour. Yearning for more of this she reached for another ice cube to feed it to him and have more. Her stomach and all bodyparts underneath clenched mercilessly as he very carefully took the ice between his teeth and ever so slowly traced her lips with it, and then slipped it into her mouth tentatively. She moaned from very deep within at the sensation. Never ever had she felt something more sensual, burning through her, permeating every inch of all of her, making her tremble with need so fiercely.

After lingering moments, giving and taking the ice, he groaned, his strong arms grabbed her and lifted her body on top of his. He reached out for her face to kiss her hungrily, thoroughly, moaning.

" Della … I love you … " He panted, her face just inches from his, she drowned in the ice blue depths. She felt the lump in her throat again, either it had been there all the time, or it had developed very quickly again.

" I'm not the first you do this to, am I ? " Of course it was ridiculous to be jealous because of something that had happened in the past, but just the thought of him doing this, and exactly this, to another woman, in exactly this way, could and would drive her insane. So, she willed the thought away, and tried to humour herself. It was exactly what he was about to do.

" I hate to bring it to you, but indeed, you are not the first … " He looked away from her, a sly grin reaching his eyes, then turned back to her face, his eyes searching for hers. " … but you are definetely the warmest. " And probably will be the last, he added in his mind softly, but very softly.

" The warmest? Why? " She rolled of his body, reaching for an ice cube to suck on it gently.

" I should say, the hottest … " His eyes were glued to her mouth.

" Mmmm ? "

" I have never seen ice melt so quickly … " His voice was hoarse, but he grinned mischievously and dimple deep at her chuckle. His hand disappeared into the bucket, and as it came out again, he swirled a dozen ice cubes in his large hand.

She gasped and lay back as he leasurely spread them over her belly and the soft skin between her breasts. He hovered his broad, heated frame over her body slowly, moving his lips over hers, his tongue taking complete control of every inch of her mouth and mind now. Within seconds, the melting ice water trickled down her sides from in between their bodies, and made her shiver before it caused pure pure desire to conduct her thinking. Taking her over completely, the passion steered the words coming out of her mouth.

" I need you inside me … " it was a whisper " … make love to me, Perry … " Her hips moved with his as if he was already doing to her what she wanted.

He groaned, as he pressed his forehead into the pillow next to her ear. " Say that again … " he said under his ragged breath.

" Make love to me … " she pleaded softly into his ear.

" … oh, baby … " he groaned again and obeyed in the most glorious way possible.

Five weeks of pent up scorching lewdness surfaced completely and made him eat her, caressing and tasting every inch of her scrumptious naked, ice water moist yet heated flesh, as sounds left her lips uncontrollably, maddening him, challenging him to pleasure her in every way he thought possible and more.

She wrapped her legs lasciviously around his hips, to be close and so much closer, closer than she could physically be. To meet her urge that was his own, he tore himself loose from her grip, kneeled in front of her, and instinctively sought for a rythm, that was as primal as it was fulfilling, spiralling them to unprecedented heights at lightning speed, raw and intense, so raw, so intense,

her hands grabbing at his upperarms,

her eyes closed,

her lips parted,

" … yes, Perry …. oh … "

he threw his head in his neck, and stopped breathing before shouting that deliriously delicious name that was hers, because she was so delicious.

His firm grip on her hips subsided as he slowly, ever so slowly, buried his heated face in her neck, covering her with his broad frame.

Gently, gently, searching for a steady breathing, they slowly floated on waves of soft sighs and caressings. She was the first to regain complete consciousness. " What is this that we have ? " She sniffed a quivering breath.

Becoming aware of his weight, so heavily pressing on her lithe body, he moved to his side, pulled her against him without disconnecting them, and rolled over to lay on his back, with her slightly trembling body on top of him. He stroked both his hands lazily through her hair, as he felt her heartbeat slow down, and the remainders of her tears on his chest. " Do you want a defintion of what we have ? " His voice was still labored.

" Yes. And no. I just want to understand. "

" I think we are very seriously in love, Della. "

" Mmmm. Do you remember what we argued about ? "

" I was asking myself the same question before my five o'clock came in … "

She smiled. " Yes, that appointment was a very good idea. "

" It was. Any more good ideas? "

" Actually, I have. "

" Oh? "

" We should not allow it to happen again. "

" How do we do that ? "

" We should just never go to sleep when one of us is wrong, or angry. In that way, nothing that stands between us, can exist for longer than let's say twenty-four hours? "

" Yeeeees. " He answered slowly.

" It's either that, or we just never sleep … "

She slipped away from his arms, and stood up slowly, pulling him up to go to the bathroom. " How wonderfully creative of you to seduce me like that … "

" It's my job to be creative …" He held her hands as they walked back from the bathroom again. He stroked her forehead, before laying down on her bed, pulling her with him. " Don't you remember the champaign? "

" Oh, yes, I remember the champaign. " She kissed him sweetly, as he moved around her, making her comfortable, and lay his head down on her chest. " But I liked this better … "

" You did ? "

" It's less sticky … "

" Don't you like sticky ? "

" Mmmm, sometimes. " She stroked his hair, as he started to drift off to sleep.

" Are you angry? "

He opened one eye to her. " No. "

" Are you wrong? "

" No. "

" Then you can go to sleep. "

" Only if you stop talking, Della Street. "

" I'm sorry. " The feel of her soft lips, planting kisses in his hair, was indescribably reassuring. She whispered to him, stroking his shoulders, his shoulderblades. " Let's stick to this deal, Perry, and I'm sure we can last forever. "

" Ah, eternity … the wish of all that have it all. "

" Oh, but it is the one thing you can't get me." She said teasingly.

" No, I can't get you eternity … " He kissed her throat and looked up in her beautiful eyes. " But if I ever find a way, I'll make sure to get you eternity … "

" Is that a promise ? "

" Yes. "

She mumbled something.

" What did you say, my sleeping beauty ? " He chuckled.

" I was saying I am more alive when I'm with you. "

" Ditto, Della Street, very much ditto … "

" So, let's live, together. " She said it, drowsily, probably not aware of the two-fold meaning of her sentence. But he was aware, closed his eyes, and smiled.

My girl. Mine.

He breathed deeply. The ice cubes had melted in his glass, as the heated memories had made the palm of his hand warm to say the least.

My girl.

She would make ludicrous fun of him now.

" And so, you just sat down and did nothing about it ? That's so not you, Perry … "

The way his body had reacted to this recollection of sinful gloriousness, the deep love that had accompanied it, and all that it had brought on, fed his determination to take control.

Yes, contradiction was the right strategy this time, because contradiction was the key to confusion, and confusion could provide him with opportunity and means. Hot and cold, mortality and immortality, old and new, expected and unexpected. And so, because he was told to stay away from her, and not to interfere, he was going to interfere, and he was going to find her, and be with her.

Very quickly, he wrote a short list of things to do on his notepad.

- Domenico

- Sorrento

- mail

- cancel lectures

- kiss Della

His stare was as solid as reinforced concrete. Nobody messed with Perry Mason and his girl. It was time to take charge again. He was, after all and in all ways, a leader as well as a winner.

But not without her.